


Restless

by blitzturtles



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Insomnia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 14:05:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19274839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blitzturtles/pseuds/blitzturtles
Summary: Crowley rolls over for the umpteenth time only to huff after a few seconds. He grabs one of his pillows and chunks it across the room like it’s somehow responsible for his current problems. He wishes it were. He could go out and buy a new one or miracle one up and be on his way to a nice, good sleep. Instead, he’s spent the last three hours miserably shifting from one position to the next. He’s even tried the snake thing for a bit with no more success than he’s gotten from any other attempt.





	Restless

Crowley rolls over for the umpteenth time only to huff after a few seconds. He grabs one of his pillows and chunks it across the room like it’s somehow responsible for his current problems. He wishes it were. He could go out and buy a new one or miracle one up and be on his way to a nice, good sleep. Instead, he’s spent the last three hours miserably shifting from one position to the next. He’s even tried the snake thing for a bit with no more success than he’s gotten from any other attempt.

The problem is that he doesn’t _want_ to be conscious. It isn’t that he needs sleep. He’s never truly _needed_ sleep. Except for, maybe, after the Apocalypse-That-Wasn’t. He might have needed that one simply for the emotional toll it had taken, but this is not that. And that had been much easier. He had barely needed to find a bed to be out like a light for several hours after. 

There are other things he could be doing. Other things that might help with his current problem, which is more than that he can’t sleep. He doesn’t want to be awake because that means thinking, and thinking feels a lot like being pulled under the surface by endless waves of thought that somehow manage to grow worse with every breaker.

He’s too caught in his own head to hear when Aziraphale opens the bedroom door. He stays that way until the angel is pressing the back of his hand against Crowley’s forehead with a worried expression on his face and lips that seem to be forming-- _something_. Crowley just doesn’t quite know what until he catches ‘dear’ in there.

Crowley swats lazily at Aziraphale’s hand. “‘m not sick,” he grumbles with some irritation. He can’t get sick. Well, he can, he supposes, but it’s extremely unlikely. 

“Indeed,” Aziraphale says, frown deepening in a way that has Crowley doing the same. He hates it when his angel fusses. 

“I’m…” He’s startled by the way his voice catches in his throat. He doesn’t know what exactly causes it, but Aziraphale catches it all the same. 

Crowley thinks he ought to thank Someone for what his angel does next because, instead of questioning him, Aziraphale simply crawls into bed. His daily wear vanishes with a snap of his fingers, and, in its place, he wears a pair of pajamas made out of the softest cotton Crowley figures has ever existed.

His fingers tangle in Aziraphale’s top, and he shamelessly clings to him like a lifeline.

“Thank you, angel,” Crowley whispers as he tucks his face against Aziraphale’s neck.

“Of course,” Aziraphale says. Promises, really. ‘ _Anytime_ ,’ he says with a kiss to the top of Crowley’s head. He doesn’t have to actually speak the word aloud to know that he’s been heard.


End file.
